yes. i've been a fan for quite a while, and although some of his recent recordings have seemed a tad outlandish, he's still never really sold out or anything. that viva last blues album makes me choke up sometimes.
yes. i've been a fan for quite a while, and although some of his recent recordings have seemed a tad outlandish, he's still never really sold out or anything. that viva last blues album makes me choke up sometimes.
"new partner" is my shit.
dude did put on one of the worst shows i've ever seen though, touring behind that album. none of his band could play, they all looked like dudes he picked up at truckstops along the way.
they all looked like dudes he picked up at truckstops along the way.
Funny you should say that. When the tour swung through Baltimore I had a chat with the bass player. He said he'd been on the tour for a day and a half and had met Will at a house party in Virginia.
they all looked like dudes he picked up at truckstops along the way.
Funny you should say that. When the tour swung through Baltimore I had a chat with the bass player. He said he'd been on the tour for a day and a half and had met Will at a house party in Virginia.
This is exactly why I find it so endearing. At this point, he is in the position to just drive from town to town playing the Palace/Bonnie standards set. But he doesn't. I will grudgingly concede that seeing him live with a band (especially at the top of a tour) can be laughable. I also understand why it can be too much for some. He is still making music in a way that keeps him interested in the moment and uncertain of the outcome. This is laudable, in my opinion. We can argue about the results, but he is genuine -- even when making nonsense.
An example. I saw him open for Bjork. Standing there, thinking, "Just what the fuck is he doing?" Standing there all by himself on the stage, with an autoharp (an autoharp for fuck's sake!), singing himself silly to a stadium full of teenagers who all had the "when do the drums come in?"-look on their face.
Later, much later, like... months later, a friend told me this story:
Before the Bjork tour, Will met with Bjork and all of her "people" to iron out the details of the tour. When the promoter (or whomever) asked Will how many people he'd have in his band, he said, "Just one--just me."
"So," the guy said, "you'll be accompanying yourself on the guitar then?"
"No," Will replied. "I'll be accompanying myself on the autoharp."
There was a period of total silence before the guy said, "I can't tell you how bad of an idea I think that is."
What's even funnier is that, when I told that anecdote to D****n R***a, he said, "Yeah, I was over at Will's right before he flew out to join that tour. He was pacing back and forth, waiting for an autoharp to arrive by Federal Express. Then, after it had come and he was ready to leave for real, he darted back into the house and grabbed a How to Teach Yourself the Autoharp book off of his coffee table and tossed it into his bag."
Again, I can see why this could be too much, but it's a reason I love him. The reason I love him is this song.
(April 14, 2003 [color:white]my ex-girlfriend called me to tell me that my dear friend Chuck had hung himself in an almond orchard behind another dead friend's grandmother's house. That was my last big cry. I spent the next few weeks on the phone with my friends -- Chuck's friends. We talked about what, I guess, you would typically talk about when someone you love kills himself: guilt, the "last time we talked," his family, other friends, guilt, grief. Some of us are doing better than others. The day-to-day aspect of living with someone's dead memories isn't so poetic or pretty. I resent music that tries to help me "understand" these situations. Some time after Chuck's funeral, this song happened to be on, and all at once it all rushed back. One of those crying in public moments. There's those songs that try to be sad and then there's those songs that just tell you what they think and let you decide how to feel about it. This is one of those songs. I've spent a lot of time in the last few years talking with my remaining friends about this darkness and what it's done to our lives. [/color] I don't think anyone has ever explained it better than Oldham.)
Many times We've been out drinking And many times We've shared our thoughts But did you ever, ever notice The kind of thoughts I got
Well you know I have a love A love for everyone I know And you know I have a drive To live I won't let go But can you see it's opposition Comes a-rising up sometimes
Swayze
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i recently met a guy who recorded much of the early palace stuff in his home and played drums (??) with 'em.
i recently met a guy who recorded much of the early palace stuff in his home and played drums (??) with 'em.
I was gonna post the same thing (about Matewan). Great flick, probably my favorite by Sayles.
Second Palace album and the song "Ridin'" are my shit.
"... did you ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got?"
Superwolf? Get on that level. Nothing Tad or Outlandish.
"I know nothing and I'm overjoyed"
"new partner" is my shit.
dude did put on one of the worst shows i've ever seen though,
touring behind that album.
none of his band could play,
they all looked like dudes he picked up at truckstops
along the way.
This is exactly why I find it so endearing. At this point, he is in the position to just drive from town to town playing the Palace/Bonnie standards set. But he doesn't. I will grudgingly concede that seeing him live with a band (especially at the top of a tour) can be laughable. I also understand why it can be too much for some. He is still making music in a way that keeps him interested in the moment and uncertain of the outcome. This is laudable, in my opinion. We can argue about the results, but he is genuine -- even when making nonsense.
An example. I saw him open for Bjork. Standing there, thinking, "Just what the fuck is he doing?" Standing there all by himself on the stage, with an autoharp (an autoharp for fuck's sake!), singing himself silly to a stadium full of teenagers who all had the "when do the drums come in?"-look on their face.
Later, much later, like... months later, a friend told me this story:
Before the Bjork tour, Will met with Bjork and all of her "people" to iron out the details of the tour. When the promoter (or whomever) asked Will how many people he'd have in his band, he said, "Just one--just me."
"So," the guy said, "you'll be accompanying yourself on the guitar then?"
"No," Will replied. "I'll be accompanying myself on the autoharp."
There was a period of total silence before the guy said, "I can't tell you how bad of an idea I think that is."
What's even funnier is that, when I told that anecdote to D****n R***a, he said, "Yeah, I was over at Will's right before he flew out to join that tour. He was pacing back and forth, waiting for an autoharp to arrive by Federal Express. Then, after it had come and he was ready to leave for real, he darted back into the house and grabbed a How to Teach Yourself the Autoharp book off of his coffee table and tossed it into his bag."
Again, I can see why this could be too much, but it's a reason I love him. The reason I love him is this song.
(April 14, 2003 [color:white]my ex-girlfriend called me to tell me that my dear friend Chuck had hung himself in an almond orchard behind another dead friend's grandmother's house. That was my last big cry. I spent the next few weeks on the phone with my friends -- Chuck's friends. We talked about what, I guess, you would typically talk about when someone you love kills himself: guilt, the "last time we talked," his family, other friends, guilt, grief. Some of us are doing better than others. The day-to-day aspect of living with someone's dead memories isn't so poetic or pretty. I resent music that tries to help me "understand" these situations. Some time after Chuck's funeral, this song happened to be on, and all at once it all rushed back. One of those crying in public moments. There's those songs that try to be sad and then there's those songs that just tell you what they think and let you decide how to feel about it. This is one of those songs. I've spent a lot of time in the last few years talking with my remaining friends about this darkness and what it's done to our lives. [/color] I don't think anyone has ever explained it better than Oldham.)
Many times
We've been out drinking
And many times
We've shared our thoughts
But did you ever, ever notice
The kind of thoughts I got
Well you know I have a love
A love for everyone I know
And you know I have a drive
To live I won't let go
But can you see it's opposition
Comes a-rising up sometimes
damn the branches that refuse to break
ugh